


a beating heart, a loaded gun

by hyoidbone



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Dysphoria, Trans Lexa, clarke is so Good, dom-ish clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 03:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6453982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyoidbone/pseuds/hyoidbone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa finds herself looking anywhere but at Clarke—or herself—while the pit of her stomach roils.</p><p>“It’s okay,” Clarke says, searching for her gaze but Lexa doesn’t give in at first, blinking back a few straggling tears. “Do you trust me?”</p><p>She doesn’t hesitate to nod.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a beating heart, a loaded gun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RadioactivePaws](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadioactivePaws/gifts).



There are hard days and then there are _hard_ days Lexa likes to pretend don't bother her. Clarke knows the telltale signs when she walks through the door no matter how many time she's blotted away the tears or strains a smile to her face. As much as she wants to think she needs to hide it, there's somewhere deep down she's happy Clarke Griffin knows. 

Lexa sucks in a long breath when she hears soft foot falls of bare feet pedaling against hardwood floor while she shrugs off her coat, meeting a warm embrace that nearly knocks her off her feet.

“Hey,” she breathes into the crook of Clarke’s neck and is instantly met with a squeeze. Her eyes well up again but she closes her eyes, biting back the urge of relief, and allows the hug to go on for several minutes. There isn’t a rhyme or reason this time, which is often more frustrating to deal with than if she had an explanation. It doesn’t change Clarke’s demeanor, leading her from the hallway into the den with a gentle guidance and urges her to sit down on the couch.

“I’ll get you some tea.” 

Clarke saunters off into the kitchen and Lexa watches through the half-wall. She sheds the bowtie around her neck and unbuttons the first few, stretching out her legs in an attempt to make herself feel comfortable. She leans her back and scrunches up her shoulders, fighting the urge to crawl out of her own skin.

A few minutes later, and several squirming positions later, Clarke comes back around the counter with a Mulan mug in hand, a hint of lavender surrounding her. Lexa straightens up, taking the hot cup into her hands and pulling it close for a taste. Lady Grey with a hint of honey. 

“Wanna talk about it?” Clarke settles on to the couch next to her, turned into Lexa. One finger drops to brush back a strand of loose, dark hair.

Lexa shakes her head: “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Clarke doesn’t push the topic, giving her a few quiet moments to sip her tea while she plays with her hair. Her eyes flutter with the gentle, teasing movements that send a shiver down her spine. Eventually, Lexa is met with hands trembling so much she can’t steady her cup, setting it aside after one final emptying swallow.

“Clarke,” she says in a breathy voice, turning her head to meet the soft curve of the blonde’s lips. A graceful stroke of Clarke’s hand up her leg, tenting the fabric of her slacks. Lexa tries to shift but a soft grip between her legs keeps her still, fighting the urge to pull back by biting into her lower lip. The stroking resumes until she’s sure there isn’t any room left in her pants, instinctively drops her hands to flick open a button. Clarke swats her away and typically would be met with a challenging stare but is met only with Lexa placing her hands on either side of her hips.

It’s a long, agonizing moment as Clarke presses her palm into her crotch, toying with the button. No amount of squirming makes it any easier to disguise her need and she struggles to fight the whine in the back of the throat, Clarke’s lips lightly touching her skin by her collar. Lexa digs her nails into the sofa and when she thinks she’s going to break through, her slacks loosen and open so Clarke can snake her way inside. She swallows the whimper with Clarke’s gentle grip, her hips canting forward just enough so she’s release without too much discomfort. 

Lexa finds herself looking anywhere but at Clarke—or herself—while the pit of her stomach roils.

“It’s okay,” Clarke says, searching for her gaze but Lexa doesn’t give in at first, blinking back a few straggling tears. “Do you trust me?”

She doesn’t hesitate to nod.

Clarke starts off slow, careful; every muscle in Lexa’s body seizes up and she pushes her hips up into her hand. She dares a glance downward but it doesn’t last long because Clarke’s other hand touches the underside of her chin and directs her to her mouth into her own. Lexa’s eyes close, leaning into the kiss in a slow, searching movement met with the gentle cradle of Clarke’s lips. They part long enough for the blonde to shift across her lip without ever letting go.

Something warm is whispered against her mouth but Lexa’s mind is swirling too much to translate. Clarke pulls back and she barely notices. Once cool air brushes her lips, her eyes flutter open to see Clarke sliding down her lap until her knees are on the floor. A lump she can’t swallow forms in her throat, paralyzing her lungs once she feels warmth engulf her. 

Her hips jerk and meet the back of her throat but Clarke pushes down where her thigh meets her core to keep her seated. She grips the cushion with one hand, the other combing back blonde hair from Clarke’s face while she leaves trails of saliva slicked upon sensitive flesh. Clarke grasps her base and her mouth retreats as she begins slow, circling strokes the length of her erection. 

A strangled moan hisses from between Lexa’s teeth and she turns her head into her shoulder. Her eyes scrunch up while she tries to focus on Clarke and her hands and her steady, building rhythm that fuels a fire boiling inside. She chews on her lower lip when she can’t find comfort despite the loving efforts but it’s short-lived when she ears Clarke’s voice.

“That’s my girl,” Clarke whispers, husky and low and feels the pull to search her girlfriend’s face for the truth. 

Lexa's chin lifts, tight-jawed and inhaling a sharp breath when the strokes becoming quick and needy. She deflates with a whimper as the new stride provokes the impending threat of release. A twitch is enough to signal Clarke to slow down but the strain in her face remains obvious. Clarke crawls back up the couch with soft caresses of her cheek, guiding their lips together again. Soft words of encouragement brush against her with warm breath between each kiss and Lexa doesn’t notice Clarke’s hand fooling around the next button still in tact until it pops open. Then another, and another, until the thin, blue fabric rests on either side of her. 

She breaks away from the kiss once Clarke’s fingers grip her again, biting down on her lip to fight the choking cry in the back of her throat. The stroke increases and with the pump of her hips into Clarke’s hand, her head rolls back into the couch. Soft lips touch the sharp line of her jaw and leave kisses in her wake leading to the sensitive spot by her ear. Teeth threaten puncture on sensitive skin as Clarke trails down her neck, leaving behind a new mark.

Goosebumps rise on her skin and her breathing become ragged, struggling to get a solid breath in and out again once she nears release. A shriver runs up her spine and she stiffens and moment where she hovers at the brink but Clarke’s strokes become inconsistent, slow. Her hips search for the steady rhythm that brought her to the edge and she’s only met with a disappointing _tsk, tsk, tsk_. An in audible plea escapes her lips and Clarke’s only reassurance is a gentle “not yet, baby.”

Lexa leans in to kiss Clarke again but the blonde’s traveling away from her again, watching her settle once more between her legs. There’s comfort in her darkened, hungry blue eyes and she doesn’t shy away from her this time as Clarke begins her second build. Lexa worries at her lip again, tightening every muscle she can to hold off but the touch of Clarke’s warm mouth is almost enough to send her grappling over the edge of climax.

“Clarke, fuck, I—” 

The words become lost on her tongue, spilling out of her mouth in stammering speed that she can’t keep up with. With a twitch and rut of her hips, Clarke’s mouth retreats but is replaced by the firm, steady stroking of her hands in the remaining seconds left of her apex. Lexa comes with her whole body shuddering, breathing ragged as she sinks into the couch. Clarke continues a slow tease, milking what’s left onto Lexa’s stomach.

Clarke isn’t still for long, picking herself up from the floor but not before gently pressing her lips to the tip of her cock. She moves, slow and feline, until she places soft kisses at the base of her torso and Lexa watches her tongue trace come up her stomach. When their lips meet, Clarke working her tongue into her mouth, she tastes herself and doesn’t break away until she can’t anymore.

A sob wracks the back of Lexa’s throat as the high works its way down, Clarke’s arms taking her trembling form into an embrace. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes with a new form of clarity wash and warms her, though she shakes as if she’s cold. Lexa curls and Clarke’s fingers brush back a stray strand of brunette hair from her face. Clarke sets Lexa’s chin forward, kissing her quivering, unreceptive lips until she gets some kind of response.

“Lexa, shh,” Clarke murmurs into tufts of hair, cradling the woman into her chest. “I’ve got you, I love you.”

It takes a few moments to register the words but they repeat in her head until she can make them out and offer her quiet return: “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> prompt from tumblr! (hedabeja)


End file.
